33 Secrets
by Aussiegirl41
Summary: Laura decides it's time for her and Bill to take their relationship to its 'logical conclusion'.


**Just some secksy times set at the beginning of Hand of God. Forgive me for any odd turn of phrases (such as 'bring out the big guns') as this was written for several prompts at about_time. **

Laura was surprised when Adama so readily agreed to her proposal tonight. He also surprised her by meeting her in the hangar bay, offering to escort her to the Commanding Officer's quarters personally. What other surprises would he have in store for her?

One came as soon as he'd spun the hatch closed after they entered his domain. "You can take off your shoes if you want," he offered casually.

She lowered her chin and frowned in his direction.

He shrugged, nonchalant. "I've noticed the way you always sneak them off and curl your toes into the rugs in front of the couch."

She exhaled a small breath. What else had he noticed?

After hesitating just a moment, she took him up on his suggestion. Her aching calves thanked her, even if her head told her that relaxing completely around him was not the best move, despite the fact that tonight was supposedly all about that very notion.

She took another couple of steps deeper into his quarters. At the back of the room the table, which was usually covered with starcharts and books, was once again cleared off ready for dining. This time with only two place settings, and with much less formality than their dinner party almost seven days ago.

He was dressed less formally too. The dark blue colouring of this uniform brought out the surreal shade of his eyes. She quickly quashed that thought. She had to stop thinking about his physical aspects if she was ever going to have any peace of mind around him.

She bit down on her bottom lip. She'd also have to stop her wandering thoughts of what he might look like without the uniform. Maybe she could turn that thought into their first noncontentious conversation.

"Do you not have any civilian clothes?" she asked.

He looked down at his tunic as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. "I wear the uniform with pride," he muttered stiffly.

Already exasperated in his company, she puffed out a short breath.

"Would you like a drink?" he offered, waving to the drinks cart.

"No, thanks."

He didn't get one either. Instead he stood in the centre of the room, holding his hands loosely together in front of his body, somehow managing to make his stance not look awkward. It annoyed her that he wasn't showing any outward sign of anxiety at all, whereas she was a bundle of nervous tension.

But she was being annoyed rather easily, she reminded herself. She decided she'd better make another attempt at small talk. "So...No crises tonight; we hope. Do you think we'll find something to talk about?" she asked with a smile.

"I thought that was the idea," he said, moving to stand beside the dining table she'd been studying only a moment ago. "We meet and talk while there is no crisis pressing us for time or clouding our judgement."

She hummed in agreement. "Diplomacy is usually a good policy."

He made some sort of snorting noise which made her mouth thin with irritation. Wasn't he even going to try?

"Do you think it's possible?" she snapped, striding over to join him by the table. He was hunched over now, moving a tray across its dark wood surface.

She frowned at the broadness of his back, but somehow finished her question in a calmer tone: "Do you think it's possible for us to have a conversation without arguing?"

He turned slowly in her direction. He was close enought that she could smell his aftershave. She wondered hysterically how much he had left and whether or not he would save it up to wear when she visited.

Her tongue flicked out and swiped her suddenly dry lips. Unmistakably, he took in the action; his eyes lingered on her mouth.

"Anything's possible," he eventually replied, his gaze gradually rising until they made eye contact.

She felt another prickle of anger building inside her. She resented the way he remained calm. He should be the brash military personality, and she the politician's composed. The longer they worked together, the more she noticed their roles were often reversed. He was patient and understanding. She was tetchy and suspicious.

"You've been thinking about the possibilities?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"No. Yes." It depended on what he was referring to, didn't it.

He grunted softly and held a chair out for her.

Still irked for no apparent reason, she ignored it.

"Madam President," he prompted. "Or..."

She felt his eyes scrutinising her with that same intensity that they had since the day she'd met him for the Decommissioning Ceremony.

"You don't think it would be logical to use our given names in a situation like this?" he asked softly.

"Everything would be easier if things between us were logical," she breathed. "And continued to their logical conclusion."

"What?" he asked in a too-quiet voice.

"This. There is a logical conclusion for this. But the situation we've found ourselves in, our positions..."

She stopped speaking and gaped at him. Of all the things she thought she'd say tonight... She was admitting to the sexual attraction that practically crackled between them constantly?

Despite the cancer, her breasts grew heavy and her nipples tightened.

He released the chair completely, and rounded it until he was right in her face. She automatically backed away until she was forced to stop when the back of her thighs dug into the edge of the table.

Visions ran through her mind: him hoisting her onto the table, him bending over and drinking her in, him standing between her legs while he was deep inside her, him bending her over the table to take her from behind.

She dug her nails into her palms in an effort to clear her mind.

"Is this some sort of test?" he rumbled.

She blinked. "What?"

"You still think I'm a Cylon? I got the report from Billy where you conclude that Baltar's results cannot be relied upon completely."

She placed her hands on his shoulders, intending to push him away. Instead she uncurled her fists and rested her palms over the hard muscles. She frowned, realising she was simply content to leave her hands in that position. Perhaps she'd had too much chamalla before she left _Colonial One._

"Do we have to argue about everything? Even the fact that we're attracted to each other? We're both adults."

He moved even closer to her. She rubbed her lips together to moisten them again as she felt his breath flutter across her cheek.

"You do that deliberately, don't you?"

"Argue with you?" she deliberately misunderstood, considering his focused gaze on her mouth told her the correct interpretation of his question.

She liked arguing with him too much. But how to explain that to him. "You're too used to people jumping to your bidding-"

His laugh, a rough sexy sound that made her lower belly lurch, cut her off.

"If you think that, you don't know me-"

"I don't," she interrupted him in turn. "Which is what tonight was supposed to be about. Getting to know each other without our titles, without our worries."

She jumped when he suddenly reached up and pushed a stray lock of her hair behind one ear.

"We've known each other for thirty-three days. You think that would usually be long enough to reach this logical conclusion of yours?"

"Perhaps if things were usual thirty-three minutes would have been enough."

He winced. "I don't wanna think about that number again for a while."

Her hands slowly slid down until she hooked her thumbs onto the waistband of his trousers. "I don't want to think about anything for a while," she murmured suggestively.

He narrowed his eyes, his expression unreadable. But then, abruptly, he leaned down and kissed her. It was slow and sweet and unexpectedly gentle.

She didn't want tenderness right now. She needed their anger to appease their frustration. She nipped his bottom lip just hard enough to convey this meaning. He growled in protest but immediately deepened the kiss. Her tongue flicked out and wrapped around his, forcing him to respond.

Eventually, he broke off their kiss and leaned his forehead against her neck, gasping for air. She sensed he was about to step back, away from her, so she quickly hooked one of her legs behind his. She saw the angle of his head tilt just a fraction until he was looking down at that leg. She lifted it, exposing her thigh as her skirt crept higher.

That was enough to make him lose control, it seemed.

One of his hands swept from her knee to her ass. The other splayed across her back and drew her so close she could feel every part of his hard body-including the part she wanted inside of hers. His mouth ground against hers again, his tongue now taking control of their erotic duel that would finish with no clear winner.

It was disconcerting how much she wanted this; wanted him. A man she almost hated some days. She wanted him so much...

A sharp pain shuddered through her body. One of his hands had moved and he was massaging her left breast through the material of her blouse.

Panic spread through her along with the pain. She was determined he wasn't going to pity her, treat her differently, or demand she resign. These were the only possibilities she could imagine if he learned the truth.

Time to act quickly and bring out the big guns to distract him. She boosted herself up onto the dinner table and removed her panties in one fluid movement.

As she hoped, this took his attention away from her breasts.

Perhaps a little scolding wouldn't go astray either.

"Are you keeping up, Commander?" she asked, deepening her voice to her famous principal's disciplinary one.

He looked back up and did that narrowing of his eyes thing again.

"Slowing down-"

"Is not on my agenda," she finished.

She saw him flushing around his neck. Had no one ever told him to shut up and frak them?

"We've had thirty-three days of foreplay," she snapped. "Get on with it, Adama."

He stepped forward and swept the cutlery and crockery away to one side with the back of his hand.

"Is that an order?" he rasped, the back of his hand now brushing along her thighs. She let out a quiet murmur when one of her earlier fantasies came true and he lifted her knees and stepped between them.

"I don't think you're in any position to be giving orders," he husked, reaching between them to run a finger back and forth along her dampness.

Her back arched and she pushed hard against his hand, seeking more.

He gave into her silent pleas and pressed a digit deep into her. Her vagina's walls clasped around it tightly but only for a mere moment. He'd withdrawn it almost immediately and went back to gently fingering around her vulva again.

"Hurry up," she hissed.

Her irritation hit new levels when he merely chuckled at her reaction. Her cry of frustration was then muffled by his mouth. He kissed and kissed her, his lips sliding over hers in the same rhythm as his fingers slid over her.

She had become impossibly wet, but when his thumb crept higher and rubbed across her clitoris she burst beneath him. Her pelvis lifted off the table and she tore her mouth from his to throw her head back, letting out a stream of incoherent mumblings.

"Wait for me." His words were spoken close to her ear.

With one hand on her back again, he dragged her to the edge of the table. The movement made her legs hang uncomfortably off the table and she had no choice but to wrap them tight around his waist, eliciting a happy noise at the back of his throat.

She hadn't even seen or heard him remove his clothes, but she felt his bare skin. She also felt his erection pressing urgently at her moist opening.

"Should we go slower?" he asked, nipping at the exposed skin of her neck.

"No," she groaned, lifting her hips invitingly.

His arms encircled her tightly. "We should...Rack...Or couch..."

They couldn't slow down. They couldn't get more comfortable. She couldn't get completely naked. If he saw the biopsy scars...

She manoeuvred her hand between them and gripped his erection, sliding forwards and digging her heels into his ass until he entered her.

She almost came straight away with relief. He was exactly where she'd wanted him for the entire thirty-three days of their association.

"We have to slow down," he pleaded, even as he buried himself into her deeper. Her vagina muscles contracted and held him tight.

"Slower," he growled near her ear, although he was now moving in and out of her; another familiar rhythm.

She wouldn't let him go slower. Actually, she conceded there was no reason to. She was almost... She rocked her hips and changed the angle between their bodies just slightly. Her pubic mound ground against him hard and she immediately orgasmed.

All her frustrations fell away for a long, sweet moment. Her nails dug into his back, her legs gripped him even more tightly and her teeth bit into his shoulder. Everything else going on in her life disappeared, and she thought only of the pleasure she was finding in the most unexpected place.

Eventually her release slowly faded away and reality returned. He was jerking softly against her. She hadn't heard him climax. She didn't think this was because she was being selfish, but unbelievably, because they'd reached that point at exactly the same time.

She licked at the red mark she'd left amongst the shining sweat on his shoulder. He grumbled, a noise she now recognised as pleasure, and hoisted her further back onto the table before he turned and headed towards the bathroom.

She snorted. The top half of his body was still covered with a set of double tanks, his ass and legs were completely nude, and yet he wore a pair of socks on his feet.

She still didn't remember when he'd removed his tunic, trousers or boots.

She smiled at the way he walked. His bowed legs were shaky.

He wasn't the only one with shaky legs. She slid off the table and shuffled over to fall across the couch, relaxing into the soft cushions and closing her eyes. Next time, she'd have to find an inventive way to hide her upper body so they could at least sensibly use this piece of furniture.

Tears formed behind her eyelids. There couldn't be a next time. It was ridiculous that she'd let this...logical conclusion...happen tonight. Even on a couch, or a rack, the time would come-very soon-when she'd be unable to hide the disease any longer.

Suddenly she felt a warm touch stroking along her. She looked down. He was wiping her clean with a cloth.

He held her open again, curling the cloth to reach every part of her. Then, before she could even think to protest due to the level of intimacy in the act, he bent over her and kissed her clitoris.

Involuntarily, she whimpered at the gentle caress of his lips. Apparently the sound spurred him on, and his rough tongue lapped across the already sensitised nub over and over until she felt a pleasurable ache coiling low in her belly again. Her hands threaded through his hair and greedily held him in place. Her already quivering thighs lifted off the cushions to get closer, and she heard herself crying soft words of encouragement.

His tongue never stopped as she orgasmed again. He continued with his ministrations as he evoked the necessary release of wave after wave of her arousal.

He nuzzled her during the aftermath of her gasping and crying until finally she composed herself enough to fall quiet, her fingers absentmindedly stroking across his cheek. They remained in this position for a long time until he drew back to replace her panties and straighten her skirt.

Before either of them could speak, the telephone near his desk buzzed and her muddled mind heard him tersely answering it. She sat up, running her fingers through her hair, trying to sort out the tangles which had formed.

"Down time's over," he told her when he hung up.

She clasped her bottom lip between her teeth at the unfortunate turn of phrase. She was also sure she saw his eyes twinkle at it as well for just a moment before he turned all business.

"Looks like we might have found some fuel."

"That's wonderful!" she said happily, struggling to stand.

"We can't get too carried away with ourselves. I fear everything comes at a price."

She turned away, making a production of putting her shoes on, knowing he wasn't just referring to the fuel.

"Well, let's go, Commander," she said, concentrating on keeping her tone steady as she turned to see him buttoning up his tunic. "The Fleet needs us," she added.

"Yes," he replied, despite his guarded expression she knew he understood the meaning of her simple words.

At the hatch, he paused before opening the locking mechanism. "If you need to reach a logical conclusion again, you know where I am," he whispered. "I don't even mind if it happens before the allocated thirty-three days are up."

Without thinking of the consequences, she reached out and ran her thumb across his rough knuckles. "Thank you, Commander. You'll definitely be the first one to know."

"The only one, I hope."

She smiled at the trace of possessiveness in his tone. "I wouldn't dare," she teased. "We argue about enough things as it is."

"I wouldn't mind if we decided to always make up like this."

If only she would be able to, she wanted to say.

Even if she had changed her mind about telling him about the cancer, which she knew she certainly hadn't, he never gave her a chance. He'd spun open the hatch and was holding his arm out, ready to escort her to CIC.

With a sad sigh, she slipped back into her President persona, ready to face their new crisis.


End file.
